


a dream to be close to you

by strangetowns



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Future Fic, Implied Sexual Content, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 16:30:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9244313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangetowns/pseuds/strangetowns
Summary: It's a double edged sword, Isak’s presence. A comfort and a relief, but also a constant reminder that he won't always be here like this, not because he wants to leave, really, but because life's just a son of a bitch when it comes to forever.Even wishes he knew how to feel things one at a time. It would be easier.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Alternatively: a sort-of AU exploring what Even and Isak's relationship might be like if circumstances found them trying out long distance. 
> 
> Note: I am not Norwegian, nor do I have personal experience with bipolar disorder. If I have made any mistakes with regards to these issues, please let me know. For instance I'm not sure how likely the entire premise of this fic is to begin with, but, uh. We're just going to roll with it.
> 
> Much thanks to [Lydia](http://boxesfullofthoughts.tumblr.com) and [rumpelsnorcack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rumpelsnorcack/pseuds/rumpelsnorcack) for the beta read and also for dragging me into Skam hell in the first place. Title comes from RAC's "[We Belong](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xHxiRuVnK-k)".

Isak makes the drive down with Even and his mom, which is nice of him because he didn't have to. Even tells him that on the drive, and Isak smiles and says, “It was this or be a shit boyfriend, what kind of choice is that?”

Even wants to say that Isak’s track record for being a shit boyfriend - or person in general, really - is probably relatively clean, comparatively, because Even has whole years on Isak in terms of how much time they’ve had to fuck things up, and maybe it would only be fair if they evened out the score a little. He doesn't, mostly because he already knows it's a bad joke. He goes for another bad joke instead.

“You’re probably just going to slow us down,” Even says. “I’d be better off leaving you at home.”

Isak makes a wounded noise. “I’m going to be so much help, you have no idea. I will become the champion of moving in.”

Even laughs, the feeling of it both light and heavy in his chest. That’s the kind of day today’s going to be, he guesses. Light and heavy, all at once. “You can’t win at moving in.”

Isak looks at him, look in his eyes equal turns humorous and challenging. “Watch me.”

Even smiles, and leans his head on Isak’s shoulder, and closes his eyes. He could say that he’d love to watch him, for ages if it were possible, but that just feels like stating the obvious.

When they get there, there's so much to do Even starts to think, well, actually, rather than leaving Isak at home, they probably should have brought more helping hands to get all this done. Boxes to unpack, paperwork to fill out, a whole mess of boring things. They put the mattress into the bedroom first, and Even wants to pull Isak down onto it and say, “Fuck this shit, let's stay here forever.” He doesn't, because his mom is still there and there's things like tables and chairs and books and boring but probably really important stuff to move into the flat. If it's something he thinks about, though, then the logic must follow that somewhere else in the infinity of the cosmos is an Even who told his self restraint to fuck off and did what he wanted anyway. Good for you, he tells parallel-universe Even, who needs self-restraint, it's overrated. It's probably not healthy to envy a person who clearly has no regard for consequences - and who doesn't even exist in this universe to begin with - but it's been a long time since Even had a proper sense of what being healthy actually meant. This isn't the worst thing he could be doing inside his head.

Isak, as it turns out, is actually very helpful when it comes to moving. Even’s glad he decided to come along because that means everything gets done faster. Then again, he supposes that's also the reason why he feels so heavy inside, his heart like a stone sinking in water. It's a double edged sword, Isak’s presence. A comfort and a relief, but also a constant reminder that he won't always be here like this, not because he wants to leave, really, but because life's just a son of a bitch when it comes to forever.

Even wishes he knew how to feel things one at a time. It would be easier.

“Hey, should I sort through all these drawings now?” Isak says. He holds up a stack from the box of posters. “There's a lot of them.”

Even blinks up at him, then smiles. “Don't worry, I can do it later. Just leave it on the desk.”

“Sure.”

“Anyway,” Even says, “I think you'd just fuck up my system.”

Isak scoffs. “If anything, I'd make it better.”

Even can't help but smile at that, too. “Oh, really?”

“Yes, for sure.” Papers rustle as Isak flips through the pages. “For example, these are all movie references, so they'd have to go together. They can make, like, a border around the comics. And then these…”

His voice trails off in a way Even tries not to be concerned about. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” Isak clears his throat. “Um. Is this of me?”

Even squints at the drawing Isak is holding up. “Yeah.”

Isak turns his head and looks at him. “You draw me a lot?”

Even laughs. In the past almost-year, he's hardly drawn anything else.

Isak raises his eyebrows. “What?”

Even gets up and comes over to Isak. He rests his hand on Isak’s neck, lets his thumb graze over the curve of his jawbone. It might be ridiculous, but Even can't resist taking the chance to touch Isak when it's just there.

“I just thought that was a given,” Even says.

Isak shakes his head. Even can feel it when he swallows. “No, I need you to tell me. Tell me everything.”

“Okay.” Even leans in, closer. “Yeah, I draw you. All the time. Do you know why?”

“Why?”

Even smiles for what feels like the thousandth time in the last minute; self-restraint is meaningless when it comes to Isak. “Because I think about you. All the time.”

“Oh.”

“ _ Oh _ ,” Even says, and kisses him.

It takes a few moments for Isak to break away, but he does. “I think that's the sappiest thing I've ever heard,” he says, a little breathless.

Maybe. Maybe it is. Maybe that's what Even wants it to be. He grins at Isak as his answer, a grin that says,  _ You love it, don't you? _

And Isak gives him a smile of his own, warm and bright and true.  _ Yeah _ , it says.  _ I guess I do. _

-

All throughout the clusterfuck of moving, Even wants nothing more than for it to be over. That is, until the last box is untaped, because after that there are no more boxes, which means Isak and his mom have to go soon. Suddenly Even feels like he could unpack boxes not for forever, but at least for as long as it took to convince Isak that your third year of high school doesn't matter and staying together in this one room is a better idea than actually trying to be a productive human being. He could probably make a compelling case, given enough time.

Then again, he's never been so good with words, and you'd have to be excellent at them to make someone throw away their whole future for you. So he shoves his hands into his pockets and smiles as big as he can and refrains from asking Isak to stay for a cup of tea, because tea will turn into dinner, and dinner will turn into evening, and evening will turn into night, and frankly, the longer Isak stays, the harder it will be to let him go.

“Thanks for helping me move in,” Even says, in lieu of all the things his traitor brain wants to say instead.

Isak shrugs. “It’s nothing. Not like I'd be doing anything useful at home.”

“Yeah, I saved you from yet another afternoon of sitting on your ass playing video games.” Even quirks an eyebrow. “Actually, if anything, you should be thanking me.”

“My knight in shining armor,” Isak deadpans.

“And you're my damsel in distress.”

“Me?” Isak says, pretending to be offended. “I'm the damsel? Really?”

Even lets himself smile again, smaller this time. “Really.”

They stare at each other for a bit. Even feels a little like he's losing his mind, head and lungs filled with all the words he should say. Where would he even begin?  _ So this year is off to a great start, yeah? School hasn't even started and I already feel so fucked, like I'm drowning in my skull, or my heart, if that was possible. Can you imagine, Isak, drowning in someone's heart? I want to drown in yours. I want to drown in yours because then that will mean that I will be inside you forever, and it doesn't matter if you have to leave me now, because you'd never leave me, and I would never leave you. I miss you, Isak, and you're not even gone yet. But you will be; fuck, you will be. _

In the end he doesn't try, and swallows down the silence like a pill.

Isak purses his lips and steps forward until their faces are close enough to touch, though they don't.

“I should go,” he says, quietly. “I think I've kept your mom waiting too long.”

_ Don't go. Who cares? Let's keep her waiting for an eternity. _

Somewhere out there, parallel-universe Even is being selfish, and is probably having the time of his goddamn life.

“Okay,” Even says.

Isak sighs, then, and leans his head forward, and presses a kiss to Even’s lips. It was probably meant to be brief, a chaste thing, but Even’s fingers catch on the hem of his shirt and tug him closer, and Isak sighs again into his mouth, hotly, and Even closes his eyes, and he breathes Isak in, and he breathes.

Kisses are yet another thing that don't last forever. They break away, and Isak gives him a rueful smile. His smiles have always spoken louder than words.

“Safe drive home,” Even says.

Isak blinks, and then in a surge of forward movement he throws his arms around Even's neck and presses his face into his shoulder, and clings. Even has to close his eyes in this moment too, because the warmth of Isak’s body against his has not yet ceased to be overwhelming, and he was never that strong against forces of nature.

“Okay,” Isak says. To his credit, his voice shakes only once. Even’s heart wobbles with it.

_ I'll miss you _ , he could say.  _ God, I'll miss you. _

He can't decide if parallel-universe Even would enjoy saying that. He supposes he will never know.

“Mom’s waiting,” he whispers.

Isak closes his eyes, and presses his forehead to Even’s. Then he lets go and turns away. “You're going to do great in university, Even,” he says. His voice, now, is still. Even thinks that hurts his heart more.

They walk to the door together, saying more meaningless words like  _ good bye  _ and  _ take care _ . He watches from the doorway as Isak gets in the car and they pull out of the parking lot. He watches as they turn onto the road. He watches the car disappear into the distance, and he watches the hills that swallow it up for a long, long time.

-

“So I’m guessing the drive back was fine,” Even says that night, lying on his mattress.

Isak’s laughter rings from the phone’s speakers. His laugh is always so quiet, so restrained, it’s a little incredible when he cuts himself loose in times like this. Makes Even wish laughter was a thing you could catch in a jar and keep on your shelf for a rainy day. There are a lot of things about Isak he wishes he could save up like that.

“No, it was terrible,” Isak says. “We got into three different accidents on the way back. I was scared for my life.”

“See, I know you’re lying,” Even says, “but the thing is, my mom’s such a shit driver, I almost believe you.”

“So disparaging toward your loved ones behind their backs,” Isak says, feigning disapproval. “What would your mother say?”

Even shrugs before he remembers Isak can’t see. “She’d agree.”

“Right. If this is how you talk about your own mother without her knowing I shudder to think what you might be saying about me.”

They really ought to video call next time. It’s a special kind of pain to hear Isak’s smile in his words and not be able to witness it for himself.

“Excuse me,” Even says. “I say nothing but kind and beautiful things about you.”

“Uh huh.” Isak’s skepticism is undercut by the laughter Even can hear bubbling under the surface of his voice.  _ Just let it go,  _ he wants to say. _ Let it go, so I can hear it. Let it go, so I can feel it, too. _

Honestly, parallel-universe Even always gets the best lines. He’s kind of getting tired of it.

“Like - your breath doesn’t stink at least eighty percent of the time we kiss,” Even says. “Or you listened to all of Nas’s discography in one night just because I told you to, and it was kind of nerdy but also kind of precious.”

“Oh, so kind,” Isak says. “So beautiful.”

“Only the best for the man I love,” Even says.

Isak doesn’t answer for a while. Even decides he’s fine with that. After all, he can still hear his breathing over the line, regular and calm. It steadies Even, that sound. It’s the most reliable sound in the world. And Even doesn’t need to say anything either, as long as the silence is this comforting.

“You mean it, don’t you?” Isak says, eventually. It would be easier to tell what he’s feeling if Even could actually see his face. He thinks he can make a good guess. Still. Next time Even is definitely making Isak video call him.

“Yeah,” Even says. “Of course I do.”

It seems like a small thing to say, those four or five words. Even supposes that in the grand scheme of things they are. Right here, though, right now, it feels like the most profound statement he’s ever made.

Isak huffs out a laugh. “What a romantic. A hopeless romantic.”

Even raises his eyebrows. It hardly even matters anymore, how pointless the gesture is. “No way. You’re such a hypocrite.”

“A hypocrite? Me?!”

“Yeah, Mr. ‘I abandoned my parents and ran halfway across town just to try to catch up with the guy he’s into’.”

“That’s so different. That’s not even in the realm of being the same thing.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s exactly in the realm of being the same thing.” Even’s cheeks hurt. He doesn’t remember when he started smiling, but it must have been a while ago.

“Whatever.” He can practically hear the eye roll. “I’m going to go do homework now because somehow that would be less painful to me than this conversation.”

“Ouch. I felt that.”

“Yeah, you better have.” Isak’s voice softens, now. “Good night. And good luck with school next week.”

_ I love you _ , Even wants to say,  _ with everything that I am _ . How’s that for being a hopeless romantic?

“Yeah, you too,” he says. “Sleep well.” 

Somewhere in a different world, parallel-universe Even is probably laughing his ass off at him.

-

University turns out to be fine. His classes are challenging, but for the moment they’re nothing he can’t handle. He meets people in lecture halls and outside of them, collecting their numbers in his phone and tossing out jokes without thinking too much about them. That’s a nice thought, isn’t it, talking to people without thinking about the words you say too much? He wonders how long that will last. That’s the thing that drives him crazy sometimes. He never knows if his brain will decide to help him or fuck him over outside any given moment.

But regardless, he doesn’t need things to be different. Things are good just the way they are right now, and it’s the now that matters most. He’s found a new therapist who seems promising, he’s up to date on his meds, his professors are as understanding as they are firm, he’s even made a couple of friends who say nothing but good-natured things when he tells them he's dating a boy and tease him only mildly for the way he’ll sometimes go on long, fond tangents about said boy without realizing - 

He’s doing okay. He really is. He doesn’t need things to be different.

That doesn’t change the fact that he wants them to be, anyway.

At the end of the second week of school, Isak sends him a text.

**From: Isak Valtersen** **  
** _ Two more months. But who’s counting? _

It makes Even smile. He can’t help it. It’s nice to be reminded, every once in a while, that he’s not the only one.

**To: Isak Valtersen** **  
** _ Who’s the hopeless romantic now? _

-

Nights are still bad. Even suspects they always will be. On this particular night, he feels restless. He doesn’t think getting up and doing things would actually help, though. It’s the kind of restlessness that grates against the walls of his skull with no place to go, no place to escape to. The kind of restlessness that makes him feel trapped, and useless, and alone. It’s not a new feeling, not by any means. He feels it so much he should probably be used to it by now. But he never is.

It takes about half an hour of lying in his bed trying to count all the bumps and scuffs on his ceiling, which is a stupid thing to do in the first place because his focus is shot to hell so he has to start over at least ten times and each time leaves him feeling more and more skittish, before he gives in and calls Isak.

“Even?” Isak answers the phone, voice heavy with sleep. Even regrets making the call instantly.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I should let you sleep,” Even says. “I didn’t realize you were asleep, I’ll leave you alone - “

“Even - wait.”

Even waits.

“Are you having a bad night?” Isak says.

Even nods. No, shit, Isak can’t see him when he nods, he’s got to use his words. Fuck if words aren’t hard as hell to use, though.

“I think so,” he says.

“Okay.” Isak pauses. Even thinks it’s one of consideration, hopes it is, anyway, he can never be too sure.

He can't wait for the end of it, though. “What are you thinking?” he says, curious of the answer, somehow also dreading it.

Isak clears his throat. “Do you want to talk about it?”

That catches Even off guard, a little. By all rights, though, it's another thing Even should be used to by now, too, the unassuming way Isak offers his help. It’s not just that Isak is there for him, giving him support, helping him in ways he sometimes can’t help himself. It’s that he also gives him the choice to take it or not. It’s a small thing, such a small and quiet thing, but Even has spent most of his life surrounded by people who thought they knew what was good for him better than he did. And Isak thinks no one can know better what is good for Even than Even himself. He makes it look so easy. Even doesn’t think he really can get used to something like that.

“Can we talk about nothing, for a bit?” Even says.

Isak doesn’t ask him to explain. He just says, “Okay.”

Even closes his eyes and listens to the sound of Isak’s breathing over the phone, and lets the simple truth of Isak’s existence wash over him. It's not everything he wants, but for now, it's enough.

-

“So Magnus and Vilde have become, like, our resident sick-making couple,” Isak says. “I mean, who saw this coming? I really thought they’d just be a one time thing.”

Even smiles at his laptop screen.  He smiles a lot at Isak when they talk, he knows. So what? They only ever get to call in the evenings, which means he spends the whole day saving up the smiles he wants to give to Isak, just holding them inside himself so that when they finally do talk, there’s so many inside him they can’t do anything but come rushing out of him like an avalanche. He doesn’t think he can be blamed for that. And, anyway, smiling at Isak almost always means a smile from Isak in return. Even doesn’t think he should be blamed for finding pleasure in such wondrous things, either.

“He really impressed her, I think,” Even says. “Anyone would be if someone genuinely wanted them that much.”

“Ugh. Gross.” Isak shifts positions so that he lies on his stomach. “That makes me feel nauseous.”

Even shrugs. “What? It worked on you, didn’t it?”

That gives Isak some pause. It’s kind of adorable how predictable he is, how the slightest suggestion will always without fail make his eyes widen and mouth part in surprise. Like a deer caught in headlights. Or in love.

“Okay, but - “ Isak clears his throat. “But that’s different.”

Even shakes his head. “You keep using that word. I don’t think it means what you think it means.”

“Wait, that’s the Princess Bride! I finally got one of your movie references!”

“Hey, that doesn’t count. Literally everyone knows the Princess Bride. Babies that just came out of the womb know the Princess Bride.”

“It  _ so _ counts!”

“No points for Isak.” Even laughs at the dismay on Isak’s face.

“Ugh. Rude.” Isak purses his lips. “No, but really. Was that your play all along?”

“What was?”

“Showing me that you genuinely wanted me that much,” Isak says.

It feels like they’ve talked about this so many times. But Even knows Isak loves to be reminded, just as much as he loves to remind him.

“Goes without saying, I think,” Even says.

“I don’t think it does.”

‘Well, then, yeah,” he says. “I genuinely wanted you that much. Still do.”

They've known each other for almost a year now, and it still makes Even’s guts squirm in shameless delight when he says something that actually stuns Isak speechless. Can you blame him? It’s a thing of beauty, Isak’s face in moments like these, frozen in disbelief or awe or something else Even can’t guess at. But he doesn’t always need to know what Isak is feeling. Just knowing that he feels something is enough.

It’s quiet, now. They stare at each other, and they stare. Even kind of likes it like this, when the silence is used in moderation. When he can just soak it up like a sponge, and it doesn’t make him feel restless inside his own head. When they can just sit together, exist and breathe in tandem. When they can just be.

“Fuck,” Isak says.

“What is it?”

“Do you know how badly I want to kiss you right now?” Isak says, sounding vaguely strangled.

Even can take a guess. Sometimes, the want burns so brightly in his chest he almost forgets what it's like not to feel on fire.

“You can kiss me now,” he says. He leans forward and plants a kiss right on his webcam. “See?”

“It's not the same.”

Isak looks so sad in this moment, eyes cast downward and mouth tight like a dam trying to hold in his emotions. If looks could kill, Even’s heart would have torn itself apart over the way Isak looks when he feels crushed a long time ago.

“You're right,” Even says. “It's not.”

“Long distance is the worst,” Isak says.

He's right about that, too.

“Hey,” Even says.

“What?” Isak glances up, almost afraid, almost hopeful.

_ It's not long distance. It’s not long distance because I'm right where you are, in your heart. Drowning. _

If he's being totally honest with himself, parallel-universe Even sounds like a complete ass. He hopes someone knocks him down a peg soon.

Even brings his hand to his mouth and smacks his lips on his fingers. He taps the webcam, once, twice, three times.

“Kisses for days,” he says.

If things worked the way they were supposed to, Isak’s answering smile, tentative but bright and real, so fucking real, would spill out from the pixels into all the corners of the room like sunlight, or a waterfall. Even wonders how the computer screen is able to contain it at all.

-

**From: Isak Valtersen** **  
** _ One more week. :( _

**To: Isak Valtersen** **  
** _ Why the sad face? :( :( Won't you be happy to see me?? :( :( :( _

**From: Isak Valtersen** **  
** _ That's seven days too long. I want to see you now. _

**To: Isak Valtersen** **  
** _ So needy <3 _

**From: Isak Valtersen** **  
** _ That doesn't make me needy. _

**To: Isak Valtersen** **  
** _ Oh? What does it make you then? _

**From: Isak Valtersen** **  
** _ A sane person _

**To: Isak Valtersen** **  
** _ Really? Great news, missing you’s cured me of my mental illness _

**From: Isak Valtersen** **  
** _ :P _

**To: Isak Valtersen** **  
** _ Patience, young grasshopper _

**To: Isak Valtersen** **  
** _ (No, you don't get points for that one, either) _

-

He has a very carefully thought out plan in place for when Isak finally gets to his flat for autumn break. He will walk to the door, slowly, casually, as if he hasn't spent all day waiting for the sound of Isak’s knuckles on his door. He will open it with great dignity, and he will greet Isak into his home graciously before offering him some coffee and tea. He will probably peck him on the lips, and squeeze him on the shoulder, and ease slowly back into the feeling of being by Isak’s side again.

He should know, by now, how useless making plans actually is for someone like him. Obviously, the plan never actually happens. Instead, there's this -

Even fumbles for the doorknob in his eagerness and forgets he locked the door twice earlier in the day -

When he finally wrests the door open, Isak stares at him, and he stares at Isak, and he has just a second to marvel at the almost perfect parallelism between now and a year ago when he showed up on Isak’s doorstep, almost perfect save for the fact that this time they actually prepared for this, before -

They move forward together, Even’s not sure who went first, not sure that matters, and Isak’s arms tighten around him and Even’s not sure of much anymore but he is certain he has never embraced someone this hard, as if clutching on for dear life, for a breath of air -

And when their lips meet, and Even grabs at the fabric of Isak’s jacket, and Isak’s sweaty palms slide against the skin of his neck and his arms and his back, Even feels on fire, and drowning, and flying, all at once -

He feels, finally, at home.

Suck it, parallel-universe Even. Everyone knows who won this round.

-

It took a few months, but Even finally has the chance to pull Isak into his bed. He takes it with great satisfaction.

-

“I'm glad you made it here okay,” Even says, after.

“Me too,” Isak says back.

He looks different, somehow, from the last time they saw each other in person. Different from computer-screen Isak, too. Even can't quite put his finger on it. Maybe he grew a little in the last few months. Or maybe Even's spent too long becoming unused to the physical presence of Isak in his life. Maybe time fades the edges of all memories - even the most important ones.

This is a train of thought, he decides, that he’ll let parallel-universe Even pursue. The bastard deserves it.

“I can't believe you're only going to be here for a week,” Even says. “A week. What can you do in a week?”

“Guess we're just going to have to make it count,” Isak says, sleepily.

Even lets his hand trail over Isak’s shoulder, his arm. He presses a kiss to his temple, and tightens his grip around him.

“Day by day,” he whispers.

Minute by minute.

-

Isak has autumn break, but Even doesn't. It's the worst his concentration has been in class all year, but he refuses to feel guilty about it. The best of humankind would struggle with the thought of the person they loved in their house, their  _ bed _ , so close yet so far. And Even is only a man.

Parallel-universe Even is probably skipping classes to stay at home. Parallel-universe Even is also sabotaging his grades and his future. This-universe Even is smug about finally gaining the moral high ground.

And maybe he actually wants the distance apart, because when they're apart the anticipation and the want builds and builds inside of him until he feels like he's going to explode, and when they're together it does blow up inside him. It blows up inside him and it floods him down to his toes and his fingertips with feelings he doesn’t know if he has the words for, he just knows it feels  _ so damn good _ .

The distance only hurts for a little while, and when the pain ends it makes their time together not just good, but  _ precious _ . Those minutes and hours Even wants to hoard inside of himself to relive for the rest of time, to save up until he’s rich one day with memories. Fuck money; he wants to live on remembering.

-

Of course, it’s not all turbulent passion and sex when they do get the chance to hang out. They go out to breakfast and lunch a lot most days, knees knocking under tables, private smiles exchanged in public spaces, and laughter, a lot of it. And Even doesn’t have class some afternoons and most evenings, so they’ll do things like go out to a movie or take a walk or just lounge around in bed as they catch up on assignments for their respective classes. It’s chill. There’s a lot of kissing somewhere in there, and that’s chill, too.

Then the weekend rolls around, and suddenly they have whole days to themselves. Isak’s leaving on Sunday, but that still leaves them a big chunk of Friday and the entirety of Saturday. Compared to the rest of the semester, that much time feels like an eternity.

When Isak wakes up on Saturday morning, Even is already up and about, waiting for Isak to trudge into the kitchen where he’s making breakfast for the first time that week mostly because he finds he can’t really sit still today. When Isak does turn up, Even can’t resist giving him a kiss or two or maybe ten, even as the eggs are cooking on the stove and he has a million other things he should probably be paying more attention to. How can he, though, when a just-woke-up Isak looks so damn cute with his tousled just-woke-up hair and his bleary just-woke-up eyes? Even can’t possibly be expected not to be weak to the sight of that.

“You’re cute,” Even says against Isak’s lips, just to hammer the point home.

Isak grins. “Go check on the eggs, you loser.”

Luckily, Even gets back to the food just soon enough to make sure it doesn’t burn. “You’ve saved us once again,” he says as he brings the food to the table. “Thanks to you, we can actually have breakfast now.”

Isak holds a fist in the air. “Damn right I did.”

Even snorts out a laugh. “And you call me a loser.”

“Hey,” Isak says. “Me being a loser and you being a loser are not mutually exclusive things.”

Even holds up his hands. “Fair enough.” He could offer a counter-argument, probably, except Isak right now is leaning forward on his elbows and smiling down at his plate and the pale sunlight coming through the window is hitting him in a way that makes it look like he’s being surrounded by this hazy glow, and beauty like that pretty much always makes Even’s breath feel stuck in his throat. So he leans back in his seat, and he watches Isak, and he drinks in the sight of him, just because he can.

Eventually, Isak notices the silence and glances up. “What are you staring at?”

“You,” Even says.

Isak raises his eyebrows. “What, do I have something on my face?”

“Nah,” Even says. “You’re just hot as hell.”

And just like that, Isak’s face melts into this small, awestruck smile. Even can’t blame him. That’s how he feels inside every time Isak looks at him, too. He wonders if that’s something either of them will ever get used to, if in a few years they’ll just be bored by compliments or if nice words will still have the ability to make their insides feel all gooey and warm. In any case, he doesn’t think he wants to get used to it. He wants to be old and married and still feel this way, all soft and light and breathless. Still feel things like delight and wonder and love when Isak so much as smiles at him.

Isak leans in across the table. He presses a long, lingering kiss to Even’s mouth, long enough for Even’s eyes to slip closed and his mind to go blissfully blank. He pulls away and presses their foreheads together, his breath so close it whispers across Even’s skin. That, too, still sends shivers down his spine.

“You think so, huh?” Isak says, quietly.

“So hot I can’t take my eyes off of you,” Even whispers back.

Isak makes a low noise in the back of his throat, and leans forward into another kiss. At this rate, they might not finish the food before it gets all cold and gross. Not that Even is complaining.

Some time later, Even makes himself pull away. It’s hard, because Isak has his hand on the nape of his neck and his fingers are curling in his hair and his thumb is doing this stroking motion across his skin and Even is only the most mortal of men, but he does it anyway. “So,” he says.

Isak raises his eyebrows, and the stroking thumb becomes slower, softer, more deliberate. Even has to use every bit of his concentration not to let the feeling of it turn his brain into mush.

“So,” Isak says. He sounds almost amused, the bastard.

Even swallows hard. “What do you want to do today?”

“Hm. Good question.” Isak takes his hand away so he can lean on it as he thinks. The loss of it makes his neck feel naked and he almost wants to ask Isak to put it back, except that would probably lead to things, other things, unproductive things that leave food cold on the table, and Even is all about productivity today. “We’ve got a lot of time today, don’t we?”

“Yeah,” Even says. “A lot.” Almost more than he knows what to do with.

“That’s okay.” Isak shoots a smile at Even. It’s brief, this one, but still beautiful. Even wonders how many kinds of smiles he’d be able to catch from him, if other people’s smiles were a thing you could collect. “We can take it a minute at a time.”

“Yeah? And what can we do, this next minute?”

Isak’s smile bursts into a grin, full-force. Even wasn’t prepared, didn’t have enough warning; his heart bursts with it.

“Lots of things,” Isak says, and Even believes him.

-

In the end, they decide to stay in. Which is fine by Even. He’d rather be here, anyway, under the covers and stealing Isak’s warmth for his own, than out in the cold restricted to things like hand holding and kisses on the cheek and carefully placed arms on the shoulder. Taking care of his every action in public seems like a pointless bother when what Isak thinks and feels matters so much more to him than what other people see of them.

Isak suggests a movie marathon and lets Even pick the movies, which is probably one of the nicest things he’s ever done for him, and also probably a bad idea if he wanted something fast and easy to do with their time. It takes Even at least twenty minutes just to hash out a working list, which Isak bears with patience, if also with much snark at Even’s ridiculousness. Eventually it comes to light that Isak has never seen the Star Wars saga in Machete order - “What the fuck is  _ that _ ?” “The best way to watch Star Wars, obviously!” “Even. Literally no one except you knows what that means.” - which means the list Even spent twenty minutes on has now been thrown out the window for something he considers to be a much more important endeavor. Isak is patient about this, too, though there’s a lot of eye-rolling involved. Even doesn’t mind. If it genuinely bothered Isak, he probably wouldn’t be here in the first place.

Much to Even’s surprise, they actually manage to get through approximately half of one movie before Isak shoves the computer away and rolls on top of Even. That probably counts as some type of record.

“Hey, I was watching that,” Even complains. As much as he will always appreciate the opportunity to look up at an attractive boy straddling his hips, Even loves watching movies enough to actually almost feel disappointed right now.

Isak cups his face in his hands, smiling slightly. “I find you a lot more interesting than I find Star Wars.”

His fingers brush against the shell of Even’s ear, stroking through his hair. Even swallows. “I’m legitimately offended by that statement.”

Isak leans in close, lips maddeningly just far enough away that Even can’t close the gap. He could lean his head forward, except Isak’s gentle hands keep his head still. “It was a compliment.”

“I want to watch my movie,” Even says.

Isak smiles again, a slow and devious upward curl of his mouth. He lowers his head, pressing a warm kiss to Even’s collarbone, moving up to his neck, to his cheekbones, his eyelids. His hands stay in place. Even could break free of his grip, if he wanted to. He doesn’t particularly want to.

“Do you really?” Isak says, softly.

They look at each other for a long moment. It feels as if the only things that matter in the world are Isak and Even and this room, this bed, as if nothing can or should exist outside this. Except it does, and Even finds he doesn’t particularly mind that. The world is big, but it could never make this feel small.

“Well,” Even says. “I could be convinced.”

Isak kisses him on the mouth this time. It’s slow, and insistent, and Even can feel Isak’s fingers trembling against his face and his breath shuddering out of his lungs. It makes him want to shake apart, too.

“Convinced yet?” Isak whispers against his mouth.

Even closes his eyes, and lets the silence be his answer.

-

They don’t bother to put clothes back on for dinner. Even heats up leftovers from the night before, and they eat in bed with their legs tangled together and the next Star Wars movie playing quietly in the background. He doesn’t think people looking in on a scene like that would find it particularly romantic, but Even doesn’t really care, either. It doesn’t matter at all what they think.

“This is good,” Even says. “This is nice.”

“Sure,” Isak says. “Your cooking tastes worse the second day, though.”

“I meant being with you, but after a rude comment like that, I take it back,” Even says.

“Wait, no,” Isak says, drawing his mouth into an exaggerated pout. “Baby, don’t leave me.”

“Just watch,” Even says. “I’m going to walk out that door right now.”

Isak grimaces. “And that worked so well the last time,” he says.

Even snorts out a laugh. “Ah, fuck. Don’t remind me.”

“Okay, okay,” Isak says, grinning. “I won’t.”

“Thank you. So kind.” Even leans back against the headboard and presses his feet against Isak’s. “I’m just kidding, you know. I’d never leave you just like that.”

Isak’s expression softens. He presses his toes back. “I know.”

“You want to know something else?” Even says.

Isak raises his eyebrows. “What’s that?”

There are a million things he could answer, which means there are a million other universes where this conversation plays out differently. But Even will only ever know how things happen in this world, and he knows exactly what he wants to say.

“I love you, Isak Valtersen.”

It’s not the first time he’s said it. They’ve had over a year of  _ I love you’s _ told to each other in a myriad of ways. With words, just like this. The look in Isak’s eyes when he smiles at Even in his particular, just-for-Even way. The way he sounds when he’s just lying still, just existing, the sound of his breath enough to let Even know he’s there.

It’s not the first time, yet it feels just as important.

Isak looks at him, eyes gentle in the dim light. He leans in, presses their faces together, lines up their noses and closes his eyes.

“I love the way you say my name,” he murmurs.

Even closes his eyes, too. He’d almost want to keep them open, would almost want to keep on looking at Isak for as long as he could, but he can’t; he’s too weak.

“I’ve been thinking a lot this semester about what an Even in a different universe would do,” he says. “I think, right now, he would say something really loving and meaningful. But I can’t come up with anything that could match up.”

Isak brings his hand up to Even’s jaw. It almost kills Even, the softness of his touch. It makes him feel alive.

“I think,” Isak says, “this universe is doing just fine.”

Even opens his eyes and finds that Isak’s opened them too. They are beautiful, those eyes. They do not contain oceans, or stars, or worlds. They are beautiful just like this.

Maybe Isak’s onto something. Isak will leave tomorrow, and that will suck. There’s no guarantee that they can take more than a few months of long distance beyond this, and that would suck, too. Still, right now is not tomorrow, and tomorrow doesn’t make right now matter any less.

Isak has said something like that, before, but Even doesn’t feel shame over learning that it is true again, over and over, in all the ways he can.

“Okay?” Isak says.

“Okay,” Even answers. It's a small word, that word. Small and almost meaningless. But the smallest of things are often the ones that feel the biggest, and right now -

Right now, Even feels bigger than the whole universe.


End file.
